Remnants of Glory
by Lauren Rees
Summary: When Ron dies heroically in the war, Hermione fights her overwhelming grief and struggles to move on with her life. Little does she know, she would get a boost from an unlikely ally going through a similar struggle.
1. Misery

**Disclaimer: All credit to JK Rowling for characters and locations and everything but my words! (this one applies to the whole story ok)**

**A/N: This is just one of the many plot bunnies I've been playing with, but it happens to be the first one I've published. I'm a full-time student so I might not be able to update as often as I'd like. Reviews can help for faster updates, though (hint hint)! Thanks for reading, hope you like it!**

The war between the Light and the Dark. We'd all known it was coming for ages. Decades, really. But not a one of us could guess the impact it'd have on each of us. The visions haunted me, impeccably realistic. I could hear the echoes of tortured screams, the whimpers of the injured; smell the burning remnants of the castle, the bitter coppery tang of blood that coated the floors. I still saw the grief-stricken faces of mourners. The determined, lifeless faces sprawled across the grounds floated before my eyes. I remember seeing faces I knew, and worse, faces I didn't. Guilt engulfed my body as I saw the dead bodies. Why wasn't I one of them? Why couldn't I just let myself go? Instead, I had been cowardly and ignorant. I had thought there would be a reason to live after the war was over. I'd let hundreds perish because I couldn't save them. Because I'd been afraid. Because I'd been so damn persistent.

Looking back, I'm considered a hero. Yeah, right. What a bloody hero I am. See, the war didn't go exactly as it's recorded. And, as much as I wish it were true, I didn't marry Ron. Sometimes you have to say what you know society wants to hear, and other times you're forced by the Ministry not to let any details about the truth loose. You can guess which situation we were in. Only a select handful of us who know the real story are still alive. All of us stayed extremely close, perhaps because of our mutual disliking for the Ministry, perhaps because we had saved each other's life countless times.

_/Flashback/_

_As I sat, watching Harry dig a grave without magic for a house-elf, I felt my heart swell fondly. I knew my S.P.E.W. propensities would catch on, even if years later. Harry's face was streaked with dirt, hair plastered to his forehead by a thin sheen of sweat. I wanted to hug him, to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay. Instead, I sat a few feet behind him, watching him push the sharp blade of the spade into the rough ground repeatedly. Something about watching him labor made me sad. I watched him sullenly digging for what seemed like, and very well could've been, hours. I knew he was grieving for the elf, Dobby. The only sound was the crashing waves and Harry's weighted breathing. I knew I should've obeyed Fleur and allowed myself to be treated. I was light-headed and weak but I knew Harry needed my silent support. As it got lighter, Ron and Dean came out of Bill and Fleur's cottage with worried expressions. I knew they were concerned he was overexerting himself. I was, too. I also understood this was something he needed, as closure for many of the deaths in his past._

_Wordlessly, Ron and Dean grabbed spades and assisted Harry. I was angry he'd let them help but not me. I stood up to insist he let me help as well, but then everything went black. As I fell to the ground, my groggy mind could only thing. I would miss Dobby's funeral._

_/End Flashback/_

I was sitting in the library, Madam Pince's eyes following my every move sternly. I guess she'd noticed I hadn't read a word of my Arithmancy text in the last 15 minutes. My eyes were bloodshot and alarming blue bags hung under my eyes from the lack of sleep. I shut my large text with a thump, standing up quickly. Ginny, who was sitting across the table from me, looked up with a startled expression.

"Hermione? Where are you going?" she inquired.

"I just…can't be here anymore," I muttered, shoving my study materials into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder carelessly.

"Wait," Ginny said, shutting her books and standing. "I'll come with you." I smiled thinly. She hurried to catch up with my brisk pace.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ginny asked as we neared the Gryffindor common room.

"What do you think?" I snapped. I realized my fists were clenched tightly and loosened my grip slightly.

"You were thinking about Ron again," It was a statement. I nodded.

"How are you handling his – this all so well?" I burst, spinning to face her.

Ginny's eyes immediately narrowed."I know you lost your love that day, but I lost not one but two brothers. How dare you think I'm not mourning? How dare you say I don't miss them?" she whispered fiercely. "Every night I cry myself to sleep. When I can sleep, Ron and Percy fill my dreams. Mum and Dad hardly say a word these days, and Fred and George are thinking about closing the shop. Fred thinks it's his fault because Percy dove in front of the bloody Killing Curse," Ginny stared at me bitterly.

I looked at my feet ashamedly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. It's hard for all of us. I know everyone has the nightmares. I just…miss him," I whispered. Ginny nodded. I sighed. It wasn't fun being a hero, I thought sarcastically.


	2. Numb

**A/N: I promise there'll be some Draco/Hermione development soon! I promise it's not this dark the whole time and the Ron/Hermione will be over soon. Review!**

Chapter 2

_We'd just escaped Gringotts on a dragon. Despite my fear of heights, I had to admit flying on a dragon was exhilarating and thrilling. I was still operating on adrenaline rush, my panicked heartbeat slowing at last. It was unbelievable that we were still alive. Merlin knows how we managed to pull that off._

_ We daftly decided to Apparate into Hogsmeade, to get to the castle. A loud wailing siren informed us a Caterwauling Charm had been placed. Aberforth Dumbledore came and rescued us. We soon discovered Aberforth was a man more infuriating than his brother. Where his brother was overly optimistic and charming, Aberforth was a bitter cynic. His eyes beared no trace of his brother's ever-present, maddening twinkle. It was obvious Aberforth had given up hope long before things had gotten desperate. He called himself a member of the Order, but he did what he had to in order to survive, and nothing more. _

_A little into our visit, we'd expressed our dire need to get to Hogwarts. As we were trotting happily down a secret passage leading into the Room of Requirement with a badly beaten Neville Longbottom, Ron had boasted falsely about the dragon._

"_What did you do with the dragon?" Neville asked. I couldn't bear to look at him, knowing he'd been hurt so many times standing up for us and his peers._

"_Released it into the wild," Ron had said. "Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet – " _

_I rolled my eyes. "Don't exaggerate, Ron – " I reprimanded sternly. Ron was looking positively ecstatic. He slung his arms around Harry and my shoulders. My skin tingled where he was embracing me with a pleasant feeling. _

"_Hermione?" Neville said gently, shaking me. "Hermione!" He was more urgent this time._

I woke up with a start. The playful banter Ron and I had exchanged during the years often was replayed in my dreams.

Harry's face loomed in front of me, brow furrowed concernedly. "Hermione? Are you alright?" he asked. I rubbed my eyes and threw my arms around him. He stiffened slightly, just for a second, then returned the hug. "I know," he whispered as I wept on his shoulder. His tone was gentle and sympathetic but somehow I was not as reassured by his embrace as I had hoped. I squeezed my amber eyes shut, forcing out every last bit of moisture that formed there. Finally, I pulled away from Harry's arms. I gave a dry laugh as I saw the large wet spot on Harry's robes from my tears. He didn't seem to care.

"Thanks," I mumbled, not looking into his eyes.

"Hermione, we need to talk," Harry said sharply. I looked up fearfully, nodding at him to continue. His tone was softer as he said, "I can't help but notice how miserable you've been. No one blames you. Of course not. However, we feel – "

"Who's 'we'?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well, Luna, Neville, Dean, Ginny, and I," he replied, flustered.

"When did you guys meet to discuss me?" I was getting angrier with every word Harry said. He seemed to sense this.

"Hear me out, ok?" he said tensely. "Please?"

I nodded slightly.

"We feel that Ron wouldn't want you to be wasting your life mourning him, but instead open yourself up to others. Come out of your quarters every now and then, eat meals, and talk to us? We're worried about you. I can't remember the last time you ate anything," Harry confessed. Neither could I, I thought feebly.

I wanted to stay angry with Harry, but I couldn't. I knew he was right. It'd been a year. It was time to go on with life. "Ok," I finally consented.

Harry let out a relieved sigh, visibly relaxing. "Come to breakfast with me?" Harry said, more of a command than a suggestion. My eyes flashed regretfully but I found myself nodding. Harry's solemn face broke out into a smile. "Thanks. I know this has been hard for you, but you can't live like this anymore," He gestured to my messy braid and sweats. I didn't see why not but I knew he didn't understand seeing your true love carelessly murdered for protecting those whom he loved. Harry was grieving, too, in his own way. He was acting as if everything was alright, as if making new friends and concentrating on his studies would make his pain go away.

Sighing, I ushered Harry out the door. I opened my wardrobe doors wide, grimacing when I saw all the clothes I'd worn before…he'd gone. I fingered the materials carefully, remembering each time I'd worn it. I winced at every memory. Finally, I let my fingers slide blindly over the fabrics until I picked a random one to wear. It was a black v-neck sweater I'd worn once before, vowing never to wear it again when Ginny said it made me look gothic. Now it was perfect. The bright colors of my other blouses just didn't seem right. I pulled on light wash jeans and the black flats I'd bought a year ago but lost in the back of my cluttered wardrobe. I cast a couple Glamour charms, making my hair slightly less out of control. I slowly reached for my only necklace, a golden heart locket.

"_So you'll always have my heart," Ron had said as he clicked the clasp into place and kissed the back of my neck._

At the time I'd thought it cheesy, but now I appreciated his sentiments.


	3. Ready or Not

**A/N: This isn't my favorite chapter but it had to be done, and I still have to say there aren't any Draco/Hermione scenes in here. Sorry! I tried to make up for it by updating quickly. Hang in there!**

Chapter 3 – Ready or Not

Sighing, I stood and placed my hand on the doorknob leading to the outside world. Sure, I'd been outside of my quarters since Ron died, but only for classes. Hardly ever did I leave my quarters for an optional event, like I felt meals were. Taking a deep breath to gain courage, I marched outside. I easily joined the steady flow of students late for breakfast. Among them, I recognized Malfoy and a Ravenclaw 6th year I knew to be the twin sister of a girl who'd been murdered at the hands of Fenrir Greyback. I gave her a half-smile that she didn't return.

Malfoy glanced over at me. "Out of your chambers at last, Granger," he sneered. I looked at him quizzically. He had noticed my absence?

"Yes, I noticed. Hard to miss, really. Your annoying propensity to answer every question in class is unbearable yet entertaining. I often find myself wishing for a reason to mock you," Malfoy admitted, smirking to himself. _What a right git,_ I thought.

"I've been in class, Malfoy," I said coolly.

Malfoy shot a sidelong glance at me. "Have you? You don't seem like you're all there, Granger. Of course, you must be, because you still manage to get perfect scores on every essay." Malfoy drawled. I stopped walking, stunned. He slowed, smirking.

"Sod off," the Ravenclaw said, quietly but fiercely, as she pushed past Malfoy. Surprisingly, he obeyed. I smiled at her gratefully and resumed walking. She shrugged and refused to meet my eyes. "His incessant talking grates my nerves. I imagine yours as well," she dismissed.

"You have no idea," I muttered. She finally smiled, albeit half-heartedly, in my direction. Abruptly, she turned and walked briskly down a different corridor. I pushed open the Great Hall doors. Waves of nausea overcame me as I smelled a thousand aromas mixed into one. My stomach rolled violently. I breathed shallow breaths through my mouth, setting off determinedly toward Gryffindor table. Harry sat by Ginny on one side of the table; Dean and Neville on the other. I plopped down next to Neville, who said a quiet greeting as if speaking too loud would send me off crying. I tried not to regret coming down.

"I didn't think you were actually coming," Harry said, glancing at me with a surprised expression. I shook my head.

"No, I just encountered a bit of… trouble," I elucidated. Harry handed me a plate with scrambled eggs and a bagel on it. I hesitantly accepted the food and tore a small chunk off the bagel. Just as I brought it to my mouth, I saw Charlie Weasley at the Head table, muttering something to Hagrid. Hagrid chortled and patted Charlie on the back. I looked away. Charlie was a mirror image of what Ron would've looked like. I sighed and placed my bagel back on my plate resignedly.

Ginny frowned. "Why aren't you eating?" she asked.

"I can't. I'm just not hungry," I replied truthfully. Ginny raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. My gaze dropped to the floor.

"Hey, look. Charlie's coming over," Dean observed, nodding toward the Head table. I sunk lower in my seat, wanting to avoid any and all male Weasleys.

Ginny paused with a pastry halfway to her mouth. "You know, I just remembered an essay McGonagall assigned." she muttered noncommittally and hurried away.

I looked after her retreating form curiously.

"The Weasleys don't know about Ginny and I yet," Harry explained. "We didn't think it was the right time yet."

Dean opened his mouth and said something muffled by scrambled eggs flying out of his mouth. Harry shook his head at him. "Dean just said he has to do that essay too," Harry announced, giving a sharp glance at Dean. The Gryffindor swallowed his eggs and obediently left the Great Hall, just as Luna wandered up.

"I saw you came down, Hermione, so I wanted to say hello," she said dreamily, taking the seat beside me. I could smell sunflowers and honeydew on her. "Daddy sent a letter. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack Horn is fixed and attracting many gnomes." She sounded pleased.

"That'll be the Dirigible Plums," Harry muttered. I gave a small smile.

Neville, who'd just tuned into the conversation from a short discussion of healing herbs with another Gryffindor, snorted into his porridge. Luna didn't seem to notice her friends shaking with silent laughter.

Charlie reached our table. I noticed large bags under his eyes and he looked filthy and underfed. I felt a pang of guilt for my rude comment to Ginny earlier. "Hermione, haven't seen you around. How have you been?" he asked, concern flooding his eyes.

I looked at Harry briefly. "Busy," I said simply. Suddenly I felt like I was drowning. I stood up quickly and gave an apologetic smile in Harry's direction.

Neville stood clumsily. "Are you done eating? Do you want me to accompany you?" he blurted out, fear evident in his eyes. I shook my head violently.

"No, I just really need to be alone right now," I said thickly, through my rapidly-forming tears. He frowned at me but sat slowly, nodding understandingly. Charlie looked sad.

I couldn't stand to be in the Great Hall another second. I felt like I was being suffocated by memories of Ron and how things used to be. I didn't understand how everyone could be moving on, being happy, almost seeming…normal. I ran to an empty Charms classroom, unable to stall my tears any longer.

I froze in the doorway, tears streaming down my face. There was already someone in this room. Before I could escape, the person lifted their head and murmured my name.

I took a small step into the room. The figure came into the light and I gasped inaudibly as I saw who was hiding from reality like I was. It was the last person I'd ever expect to find showing any signs of weakness.

Malfoy.


	4. Dead Hearts

**Chapter 4: Dead Hearts**

I saw her enter the room, fresh tears staining her cheeks, and scoffed to myself. "Granger," I muttered. She would leave immediately and tell Potter. Never did I expect the softening of her face when she saw me. And instead of leaving, she took a step closer. I turned my face away quickly.

"You should go, Granger." I said coldly, although my head was swimming. I cursed myself when my voice came out weaker than I meant.

I heard small steps growing closer. They came slowly and timidly, and I wondered if Granger would really stay. I was determined not to let her.

"Leave," I spat, standing up with my back to her. I was a little pleased to hear my voice had regained its strength and ferocity.

A small wavering hand placed itself gently on the very edge of my shoulder. I shook with rage and a fiery emotion I couldn't identify. I whirled around, glaring. "I wasn't asking. I don't talk to Mudbloods," I hissed. Her face turned to one of alarm and she pulled back her hand quickly, but she didn't move.

"You too?" she whispered ever so quietly. With her words I crumpled back to the floor. "You feel it too?"

I laid my head in my hands and ran my fingers through my matted, tear-soaked hair. I knew what she meant, and it ruined me to know I could identify with her. I said nothing but stared at the palms of my hands.

She sat too, feet away but close enough that I could hear every shuddering breath. "I know," she whispered, voice breaking at the end. I didn't move. I refused to have a 'moment' with her. "It feels like every breath is betraying him, Ron I mean, because we were supposed to be there for every breath and we were supposed to be there, having our last breaths at the same time. It wasn't supposed to be like this." Granger said, stuttering over her words and gasping for breath between small sobs.

"I don't care about your pathetic struggles, Granger." I said through clenched teeth, and I didn't. But I knew what she meant, and a miniscule pang of emotion shot through my chest. Her face turned toward me. I observed how pitiful she looked. Her normally untamable hair had turned greasy and limp, probably because she slept through most days, or so I heard. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, and they were flat, devoid of emotion. She was as pale as The Bloody Baron, and she had lost weight from skipping so many meals. She looked worse than I had ever seen her, and I had seen her emerging from the library after days on end of studying. A spark of pity flared in me.

"Was it hard, watching them die?" she asked quietly.

My parents. Dead at the hand of Voldemort, just minutes before he had died himself. Bad luck, my mother would have said. I closed my eyes lightly, and I could still see them, my mother's quill scribbling furiously to Bellatrix, my father with his cigar and his wand in hand, ordering around the house elves. Not exactly the ideal family, but it was the only way I remembered them. Busy.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, so quietly I wasn't sure Granger even heard me. I hoped she hadn't. My reply surprised me. I hadn't meant to answer the Mudblood's question, especially not so honestly. But a small weight had lifted off my chest, so I didn't say anything more.

"You fought for us. You fought against your parents and the Death Eaters," she stated.

I stood suddenly. No one was supposed to have seen me sending curses at my own side. It had been a lapse in judgment. I angrily pulled back my left sleeve, revealing a slightly faded Dark Mark. "I am a Death Eater. I don't fight against my own kind." I spat, sneering as I had become accustomed to. My sneer faded, though, when I saw she wasn't fazed by it.

"I saw you," she murmured. "I saw you curse your father. Do you blame yourself for what happened?" I groaned. Why wouldn't the witch give up and leave already?

"Leave, Granger." I ordered, less firmly than I meant to. She stood up, and I clenched my fists tightly. Maybe she finally would. Instead, though, she walked over to me and laid her hand on my shoulder again. I shook at her touch, but didn't pull away this time.

"It's okay." She breathed, and I couldn't be sure if she was talking to me or herself, but part of me tugged towards her words. Maybe it would be okay.


End file.
